


For a Couple of Beers

by whatabadchoice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cockles Big Bang 2016, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunken Flirting, Every Time I Tag Smut I Die A Little Inside, M/M, implied polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:51:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7099843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabadchoice/pseuds/whatabadchoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a few minutes of walking idly in a random direction, Misha brings his gaze up from where it was tracking their footsteps on the concrete. </p>
<p>“Where are we going?” he asks. </p>
<p>They both come to a stop when they look at each other. Jensen breaks their spontaneous staring contest by looking down at his feet, shuffling them in the chilly night air.</p>
<p>“I dunno, man, home?” Jensen mumbles. He looks up at Misha and his cheeks are pink. Misha licks his lips.</p>
<p>“Yours or mine?” Misha says sarcastically. He laughs. </p>
<p>Jensen’s cheeks darken. “Mine, I think,” he replies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For a Couple of Beers

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Cockles Big Bang Challenge of 2016! 
> 
> Not sure if anyone cares very much about author's notes and such, but I try to make every challenge an exercise in something I'm not good at/uncomfortable with. In this case, I tried not to use any introspective verbs (thinks, wants, wishes, wonders, etc.). Also, I am a bit weirded out but real person fiction. So I wrote some. Because yolo.
> 
> The lovely [emmatheslayer](http://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com) has provided art for my humble story which can be found [here](http://i.imgur.com/nlqNZuP.jpg)!
> 
> Thank you to [Liv](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RipUpTheEnding/pseuds/RipUpTheEnding) for being a really awesome beta! I never get stuff beta'd and I must say, she is a gem.
> 
> I think this is the most notes I have ever written for a fic.

“Dude,” Jared chuckles, “ _so_ none of your business!”

Misha laughs too, shaking his head. “What? I’m just curious!” he says, palms up, surrendering. “Here, I’ll go first.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and huffs from where he is perched beside Jared. 

Misha raises an eyebrow. “What?” he asks, tone suspiciously innocent. 

Jensen rolls his eyes again, swallowing the beer he had brought to his lips. “You’d think we were in 5th grade,” he says, scowling. 

Misha and Jared snicker.

“Well…” Jared starts, but Jensen fixes him with a glare.

“Whatever, I just mean… It’s not truth or dare over here, Misha. God,” Jensen trails off, taking another angry sip. Misha runs his hand along the neck of his own beer. 

Jared and Jensen had agreed to use the little spare time they had been allowed after filming to go out. Misha had suggested the Moose Bawr, because of it’s low key atmosphere and very bad, very loud karaoke. He convinced Jared easily, and the clientele of mostly older, balding, bearded men coaxed Jensen into agreeing to it too. Jared sat in the middle of the three of them at the large wooden bar. It had been a long day, as the filming mostly covered physical stunts, so even though they only stayed a few hours, all three had already consumed a considerable amount of alcohol before Misha had asked Jared what he was _into_.

“You’re right. I didn’t mean to imply you had to have a turn. Let me rephrase,” Misha says solemnly, watching Jensen. “I’ll relay some sexual preferences of my own and if you feel so inclined, I would be interested in hearing about yours.”

Misha gestures to the two men on the last word, eyes flitting between them both. Jared grins then, licking his lips. Jensen continues to scowl.

“Well!” Jared says impatiently. “Are you gonna spill, or what?”

“You just want me to start so you can share your dirty secrets too!” Misha accuses, eyes not quite leaving Jensen’s face. Jared tuts happily.

“Whatever, dude, you said you’d go first!” Jared smirks, and takes a long pull from his beer.

“Alright…” Misha says, stroking his chin playfully. “Where to start…”

Jared laughs and punches his arm. Misha feigns hurt.

“Well, as you might have guessed, Vicki and I have had several threesomes,” Misha says matter of factly. Jared nods impatiently while Jensen takes another pull from his beer. As Misha continues to tap his chin, Jensen orders another beer silently by signalling to the barkeep, eyes never leaving the glass in front of him. Misha frowns.

“But my favourite thing is when Vick gets the toys out,” Misha says conspiratorially. He winks when Jared giggles, cheeks red. 

“Come on, Mish, don’t hold out on us now,” Jared says, shoving at Misha’s arm. Misha smirks.

“What? Do you want to know what model of strap on she uses?” Misha asks loudly, and Jensen chooses that moment to cough. Jared and Misha turn to look at him.

“Sorry,” he croaks, breath still leaving him in aborted coughs. “Wrong pipe. Go on.”

Jensen winces, but Jared is already turning back towards Misha.

“So you’ve…” Jared starts, but he seems to be unable to finish his sentence. Misha nods enthusiastically.

“Tried anal sex?” Misha finishes for him, and Jared laughs nervously, but nods. Jensen is no longer looking at his glass, but instead is watching Misha, cheeks pink in the dim light. “Yes, of course. For a while I got a tad obsessed. It’s pretty much all we did. But it’s been some time since we’ve done that now. I kind of miss it.” 

Misha winks at a squirming, blushing Jared, and eyes Jensen, who is well on his way to bright red.

“Damn,” Jared says. “I should have known I wouldn’t impress anyone with you around. I was gonna tell you that Gen… Oh my god, it seems dumb now. But I like a finger sometimes too.”

Jared grins sheepishly as Misha raises his eyebrows in interest.

“And clamps. Gen’s tried clamps on me,” Jared admits in a rush. Misha claps him on the back.

“There it is!” he says, laughing. Jared ducks his head, blushing. Jensen huffs again, calling Misha’s attention.

“What about you, Jen?” Misha asks then, glancing up to a scowling Jensen. 

“What is this, some weird sex competition?” Jensen asks. He rolls his eyes, staring at his glass again.

“If it is, Misha’s totally winning!” Jared supplies, chuckling. Misha smiles good naturedly. He stares at Jensen for another moment, before looking to Jared.

“It’s definitely not a competition…” Misha says seriously, but then grins. “But you’re right, I would if it was.”

Jared guffaws.

“You guys are fuckin’ weird,” Jensen mumbles, but Jared is already speaking over him.

“So, like, what’s next?” Jared asks, eyes alight with curiosity. Misha smiles, once again feigning deep contemplation.

“Well, I’m hoping we’ll get renewed so I can keep working with Random Acts and…” Misha starts, but Jared waves him off.

“You know what I meant Misha,” Jared says, tone teasing. “Got any ideas for us mere mortals to spice up our sex lives?”

“For you? I mean, do everything. That’s my advice, always. Whatever you can, do it, and do it hard,” Misha smirks then. “Well, in this case my advice is particularly relevant.” He winks again. Jared laughs.

“That’s good advice, buddy,” Jared says, clapping him on his back. “God, I miss my wife.” Jared sighs. “There’s always skype, right boys?” 

Jared turns to look at them both in turn, smiling lecherously. Jensen smiles weakly, still nursing his beer. Misha shrugs.

“Vicki hates skyping me while I’m on set. She says I’m not focused on it enough to have a proper good time. She keeps telling me I should find someone on set to mess around with instead of calling her up and half-assing it,” Misha confesses, chuckling a little. “God, I miss my wife.” Misha echoes wryly. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to you guys,” Jared says, shaking his head good naturedly. “Gen always asks about it, but I don’t know what to say.” Jared huffs a laugh. “And honestly I’m kinda worried she’ll get ideas.”

“I hear that!” Jensen says, piping up for the first time all night. Misha bites his lip, not quite apologetic. “Seriously. ‘Neel’s always going off about you two and asking me how it works. The fuck do I know about you and your wife. Like I want to know anyway…”

“Oh come _on_ , Jay. Don’t act like you haven’t gotten curious! You asked _me_ about it like two weeks ago, dude!” Jared scoffs. Jensen’s sudden confidence disappears instantly, to be replaced by a mix of shock and anger. Before the inevitable denial crosses his lips, however, Misha laughs loudly.

“You know I’m right here, right? You could have just asked,” Misha admonishes. Jared at least looks a little sheepish.

“It’s kinda intimidating,” Jared says, and Misha’s expression is an odd combination of pride and embarrassment. 

“That’s just silly,” Misha says, though, looking a little bashful for the first time. “There are things that scare me too. It’s best to be open about it though. Vicki teaches me that every day.”

“Aw,” Jared says, just as Jensen speaks too.

“Like what?” he asks abruptly, then blushes to the roots of his hair.

Misha raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment on Jensen’s sudden interest. Expression sobering, he smiles at his glass.

“Vicki’s kind of been pushing for some Dom/sub action. I don’t know how I feel about it, though, so I haven’t really given the okay yet. It’s not like I don’t know what it would involve, but…” Misha pauses, searching for the right words. “I just worry about it bleeding into our daily lives too much.”

“Yeah, and you’re already a control freak, so I bet Vicki doesn’t want to deal with any more of that than she has to!” Jensen blurts out. Then, with a decent amount of mortification, he claps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, that was fuckin’ rude…”

Jared glares at him, but Misha is chuckling softly.

“It’s fine. I’m actually flattered that you think I’d be the dominant one with Vicki,” Misha quips, winking. “Or maybe you were just thinking generally,” Misha adds thoughtfully. He grins. Jensen’s eyes widen as Jared takes his turn laughing again.

“Yeah, but we all know I’m whipped!” Jared says loudly, slapping a couple of bills down on the counter. “Speaking of which, I gotta get back. Gen promised me some Skype tonight… And now I’m feeling kinda inspired.” Jared laughs as Jensen groans, rolling his eyes.

“Go get ‘er,” Jensen says, expression half disgusted, half encouraging. Misha smiles wide and waves Jared off.

He turns to Jensen expectantly.

“What?” Jensen says, tone not quite neutral.

“Absolutely nothing,” Misha replies easily. Jensen scowls.

“I’d say something about staring, but…” Jensen starts, and Misha laughs.

“Then I’d have to say something about character bleed,” Misha agrees. Jensen’s shoulders drop a little at the easy banter.

They sit in silence for a few moments. Jensen finishes his beer, taking a deep breath, and lifts himself up to put the empty glass down. He is just setting his feet down to the floor from where they had been resting on the footrest of his stool, opening his mouth to speak, when Misha suddenly cuts him off.

“So,” he says loudly. Jensen closes his mouth, settling back into his seat a little. “You think I’m a Dom, huh?” 

Jensen’s mouth parts, pink tinging the apples of his cheeks and running into the stubble on his jaw. He quickly rearranges his features into a blank expression. 

“Misha…” Jensen says warningly, but Misha is non plussed. In fact, he ducks his head, smug expression gone.

“Yeah, well, I am,” Misha says quietly. Jensen turns to look at Misha, jaw ticking as he seems to notice the closeness between them. “Kind of a Dom, I mean,” Misha adds. 

“Misha,” Jensen says, voice a little pleading. “I don’t wanna… I don’t need to know that kinda…” 

Misha looks up at him then, blue eyes wide and smile wry.

“Just let me say it, alright? We’re friends, right?” Misha asks then, fixing his stare to Jensen’s gaze. Jensen sighs, running a hand through his short hair. He hadn’t had time to put product in it after his post-set shower, so it slides smoothly through his fingers. Misha’s eyes track the movement. Jensen shrugs in reluctant acquiescence. 

“Vicki usually takes control. You’ve met her,” Misha continues. A smile plays on his lips, not quite reaching his eyes. “I like that… but she knows that ever since I started working for this show, I've just been… I don't know. Itching, you know?”

Jensen huffs.“What, Misha, the bad writing and plot holes finally getting to you?” he says, a small amount of bitterness ruining the lighthearted tone. 

“Of course,” Misha replies. “But that's not the problem.”

“Well, I mean, your wife's asking you to take control in the bedroom. It's not really a huge problem as it is, Mish,” Jensen says petulantly. 

“Vicki doesn't need me to take control. She’s just tired of… She thinks I ought to get rid of that itch somehow. Plus, I made the terrible mistake of telling her about a fantasy of mine and now she categorically refuses to let it go…” Misha chuckles to himself, trailing off. “She's convinced I won't be able to truly enjoy sex with her until I get this fantasy, or some version of it, out of my system. She thinks this whole role reversal might be the only other option. I just worry…” Misha shakes his head, turning to look at Jensen. 

“Sorry,” he adds, cutting himself off and smiling apologetically. “I'm sure Jared would be more comfortable with this subject matter.”

Jensen holds eye contact for a while. He captures his bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn't respond. Misha breaks first, looking down at his bottle and running his fingers along the edge of the lip. Jensen sighs. 

“I…” he starts, and clears his throat, dipping his head to catch Misha's eye. “I can listen. You're… listen man, it's been like 5 years ok? I just--I haven't done any of that stuff. I don't know how much I can help at this point, you know?” 

Misha's eyes widen at the confession and he sits up straighter. His eyes turn sharp for a split second. He licks his lips, considering. 

“I wouldn't want you to make you uncomfortable…” he says slyly. 

_That_ makes Jensen laugh. He throws his head back and closes his eyes, exposing a column of tanned throat disappearing into the collar of his leather jacket. 

“Thanks _Cas_ ,” Jensen answers in a lower register, still chuckling. The tension between them dissipates a little. 

“Besides,” Misha says, offhand, though the sharp look in his eye remains, “like you said, you probably don’t even _want_ to know…”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh really?” he says, his smile forming crinkles at the corners of his green eyes. “Fine. Wanna play it like that? Challenge accepted.”

Jensen suddenly downs the beer in front of him, signalling to the bartender.

“Hey, can we get, uh,” Jensen looks over to where Misha is perched lazily on the adjacent stool. “Two whiskeys?” 

He turns back to where Misha is eyeing him with a satisfied smile.

“You better keep up,” Jensen says, gesturing at Misha’s half full bottle. Without blinking, Misha lifts the bottle to his mouth and drinks the rest of his drink down. Moments later, Misha is tipping his chin back to swallow the last of his drink. He exhales and smacks his lips dramatically, wiping his mouth noisily with the back of his hand. He smirks at Jensen, who swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. Misha’s smirk widens as Jensen rolls his eyes, coughing. “Show off,” Jensen mutters, accepting the two whiskeys with a nod and placing one in front of Misha.

“Alright, son,” Jensen says, turning his entire body, legs spread wide, towards the older man. He claps his hands on his jean clad thighs. “Actually,” Jensen says, straightening, “I’m gonna need to concentrate.”

He takes off his jacket, stowing it under his seat as he straightens and rubs his bare arms. He is wearing a plain white t-shirt. As he sits back down, Misha’s eyes return to Jensen’s serious gaze. Jensen goes back to his previous position, hands on his thighs, but leans in closer, conspiratorily. Misha mirrors his stance, frowning in mock solemnity. 

“Alright, son,” Jensen repeats, and smiles at his own joke. “Have at it. What’s this crazy secret fantasy your lady wants you to try out on her? And why won’t you?”

“Oh,” Misha says then, biting his lip a little as he smiles. His expression is teasing. It doesn’t seem to escape Jensen’s notice.

“What?” Jensen asks suspiciously, annoyed tone failing to mask the pink bringing out the freckles in his cheeks.

“Nothing, it’s just…” Misha says, and Jensen shoves him, hard. 

“Spill!” Jensen says loudly, a little angrily. Misha rights himself on his stool and holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

“It’s not that important. It just doesn’t actually involve Vicki,” Misha says quietly, eyes darting right. He smiles, but his breathy chuckle is nervous.

“Oh,” Jensen says softly.

“Yeah,” Misha agrees. But Jensen rallies quickly, throwing a hand up to Misha’s shoulder.

“Well, I mean, she’s cool with that, right?” Jensen asks hesitantly. He pauses. “‘Neel’s asked me that question before. Thought it was some kinda trap. She said she was curious. Asked if I’d ever done anything with a fan or...” Jensen’s voice wobbles a little on the last word. The sentence lilts up as if he hasn’t finished it, but he shakes his head instead of saying anything further.

“Anyway, I was honest with her, she was cool with it,” Jensen said, shrugging. His shoulders didn’t quite fall back into place, remaining a little high with tension. “We haven’t done anything together, but we know that’s an option.”

Misha nods, his expression neutral. He stares, still; they don’t say anything for a moment as they take sips from their drinks. Misha’s glass knocks the countertop a little loudly when he sets it down without looking. He brings his empty hands together in his lap, licking his lips to collect the moisture left over. Jensen sways forward a little at the action, glass still in hand as he swallows his sip. His eyes shift downwards to Misha’s mouth, and he breathes a burp, blowing warm air out. A slightly embarrassed smiles ghosts over his mouth before being replaced by the slack, parted expression to mirror Misha’s. Jensen’s eyelids droop a little as he places his glass back down without looking at it either. A little whiskey is spilled in the process, so he licks the back of his hand, still staring at Misha. He leans back again, clearing his throat, and his expression turns expectant. Misha blinks.

“Vicki knows,” Misha says, too loud for how close they are sitting. “That’s not the problem, Jen.”

Jensen squirms in his seat at the nickname. Misha keeps talking.

“ _I’m_ the problem! S’me!” Misha says, louder still. Jensen brings a hand up to Misha’s knee, concern flashing across his face. Misha looks down at Jensen’s thumb rubbing his thigh through the black denim and sighs, rolling his eyes back up to Jensen’s in an annoyed glare. Jensen frowns, clearly confused. 

“Two more?” the bartender interrupts. Jensen straightens instantly, hand slapping the counter, smile firmly in place.

“Yeah, thanks bro!” Jensen says, enthusiastic. Misha rolls his eyes so hard his head follows the movement. He braces himself on the counter with one hand when he doesn’t quite manage to right himself from the movement on the stool. Jensen turns to him in concern again. Misha sighs, loudly.

“How kinky is this fuckin’ fantasy, man?” Jensen asks, curiosity masked mostly by the implied humour. Misha turns back to the bar where a fresh whiskey has appeared. He throws it back and drops his head into his hands without answering. Jensen brings an arm up around Misha, fingers hovering over the back of his neck hesitantly. Taking a sip with his other hand, Jensen gently brushes his fingers over Misha’s nape. The man stiffens at the touch, and turns abruptly in his stool. Jensen’s hand falls to the side. Misha glares at him for a moment, mouth parted to speak. Taking a breath in through his mouth, Misha looks down to his lap, shoulders falling.

“It’s not _kinky_ , Jensen,” Misha says testily. He picks at the ring on his left hand. “S’just…” Misha looks up at Jensen, eyes wide. “If I let that part of me take over… I worry about how much of my life it might leak into.” Misha looks down at Jensen’s lips then, which are parted again, this time in surprise. Jensen sucks in a breath, the sound loud enough that Misha’s eyebrow ticks at it.

“O-oh,” Jensen breathes, legs falling a little more open. Misha’s knees bump the inside of Jensen’s thighs. “Well… That’s, uh. I mean, I, uh, kinda get that.”

“Do you?” Misha asks quickly, eyes earnest. Jensen swallows. 

“Yeah,” he says. He takes another breath in from his mouth. “Yeah, I mean, I… It’s hard to know where Dean ends and I start sometimes, y’know. I get bein’ scared t’cross lines like that too…”

Misha’s knee bumps Jensen again, and Jensen’s eyes trail down to where his wide stance is framing Misha’s legs. He flicks his gaze back up to Misha, face warring between several emotions before settling on a neutral expression. A muscle ticks in his stubbled jaw. He brings a hand up to run through his light brown hair again. Misha keeps his gaze focused on Jensen’s eyes.

“Exactly…” Misha says quietly. He frowns a little, then straightens. It’s not enough to put more than a few inches between them, but enough that the air he breathes is cool again. “So you and Danneel have discussed dominant and submissive scenes? But you’ve never tried domming.” 

Jensen’s eyes widen a little.

“Uh, no. Danneel’s mostly just asked about like… threesomes and like, you know, _sex_ tracurriculars while I’m on set, man. We didn’t really go over that kinda shit,” Jensen says. “She said once I’d probably make a good sub though,” he adds, mumbling. “Whatever the hell _that’s_ supposed to mean…” 

Misha just stares, nonplussed. 

“You would,” he says, no trace of humour in his voice. Jensen swallows.

“Yeah?” Jensen asks, a note of hope leaking into the question clearly meant to be sarcastic. His voice rasps from the combined abuse of hard liquor and breathing through his mouth. Jensen lifts his chin defiantly. “How would you know? I thought you said you were too scared to do that kinda shit anyway.”

“I lied before. Vicki’s scened with me a few times,” Misha says, unable to suppress a cocky grin. Jensen narrows his eyes. “But only as my Domme. I don’t think I was quite clear with you… I’ve never been the dominant one. In any of our relationships. Not because I’m scared of taking control,” Misha continues, eyebrow raised. “But because I’m afraid it would be… _addictive_.” His voice lowers at the last word, and Jensen squirms in his seat again.

“But Vicki doesn’t want me to be her Dom anyway,” Misha says, tone back to conversational. “I love submitting to her. Not thinking or pretending or worrying, just… _feeling_ my wife and her body…” Misha closes his eyes. Jensen swallows, though his drink remains on the table.

“Sounds… Uh, sounds like a good time,” Jensen says, voice cracking again. Misha opens his eyes to look at Jensen.

“It is… _exquisite_ ,” Misha says, bright blue eyes flashing in the dim light of the bar. “But, thinking about having that kind of power over… Over someone else…” Misha takes a deep breath. “ _Fuck_ with,” Misha says then. He is smirking, but his words slur dangerously. 

The bartender appears, rapping on the table.

“Hey guys,” he says loudly. Jensen straightens immediately, whereas Misha slumps forward for a moment, before straightening slowly with a sigh.

“Hey, yeah, you closin’ up?” Jensen asks. It’s clearly meant to be nonchalant. His lips seem to move too slow for the haste in which he is trying to deliver his words, though. The bartender looks at them apologetically, but his fingers tap the wood of the bar as he cocks his hip.

“Yeah… Sorry, guys. I know you’re, uh, celebrities but…” The man shifts, moving the white dish towel he is holding to his shoulder. He glances at the clock over the bar. It reads three thirty in the morning.

“Wow,” Misha says then, slapping a hand on the table. He looks around to the empty bar and grimaces. “Sorry, man. We didn’t realize.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” the bartender protests. Jensen and Misha both get up, waving him off. “We didn’t want to bother you or anything…” 

“What? Nah, dude, you’re fine,” Jensen says then, smiling nervously. He fumbles with his wallet, pulling out too many bills. He pauses for half a second, before slapping the handful onto the table. “Sorry again, man,” he mumbles, and turns around where Misha is already walking away.

Stepping out of the bar, Misha shoves his hands into his jean pockets. Jensen shrugs his jacket on, veering off towards the wall as he walks beside Misha.

“Careful,” Misha says, even as he nearly trips over a crack in the sidewalk. Jensen giggles.

“Yeah, okay there, _Dmitri_ ,” Jensen quips through a laugh. He sidles up to walk by Misha, who promptly shoves him into the nearest building wall.

“Oooops,” Misha says loudly, feet crossing as he lets out a high pitched laugh. 

“Asshole!” Jensen replies, pushing off the wall so he bumps into Misha. The man just grins back at him. Their hands brush as they walk unsteadily side by side.

After a few minutes of walking idly in a random direction, Misha brings his gaze up from where it was tracking their footsteps on the concrete. 

“Where are we going?” he asks. 

They both come to a stop when they look at each other. Jensen breaks their spontaneous staring contest by looking down at his feet, shuffling them in the chilly night air.

“I dunno, man, home?” Jensen mumbles. He looks up at Misha and his cheeks are pink. Misha licks his lips.

“Yours or mine?” Misha says sarcastically. He laughs. 

Jensen’s cheeks darken. “Mine, I think,” he replies. He lifts his chin so that his eyelids droop slightly when he looks down at Misha’s lips. 

For the first time tonight, Misha parts his lips in genuine surprise. Jensen’s eyes widen at Misha’s expression. 

“For a couple of beers,” Jensen says quickly. Misha closes his mouth and swallows.

“Yeah, okay,” Misha agrees, almost cutting Jensen off. “For a couple of beers. Yes. Good.” 

Jensen moves to leave, and Misha grabs his hand. Jensen stops, looking down at their hands in confusion for a moment, then back up at Misha, swaying slightly. Misha stays frozen for a moment, mouth opening to form a word. Jensen’s frown is lessening by the moment, a predatory grin forming on his lips. Misha swallows again.

“Sorry, I --” Misha begins to say. Then, eyes widening, he suddenly looks around them at the deserted street. 

“Yeah,” Jensen says, letting go of Misha’s hand only to wrap an arm around his shoulders. He glances around to the alley again. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.”

 

*

As soon as they enter his apartment, Jensen strides towards the kitchen and opens up the stainless steel fridge. He shuffles around there while Misha stands at the entrance, taking in the apartment as a whole. Misha’s eyes move from the grey couch, to the eggshell walls, to the kitchen where Jensen is crouched on the black tiles.

“Wow,” Misha says. 

Jensen looks up from where he is holding two beers and balancing a bottle of whiskey in the crook of his arm.

“What?” he asks, eyes darting around the room. “Sorry, it’s a bit messy.”

Misha laughs incredulously.

“Jen, s’fuckin’ hospital clean in here,” Misha says through a chuckle. Jensen gets up, placing the drinks on the marble countertop of the kitchen island.

“Shut up,” Jensen mumbles, his cheeks red. “And stop calling me that.”

He opens the beers on the edge of the counter. Misha tsks.

“You’ll ruin the marble,” he chides, coming to stand on the other side of the island and grabbing the beer offered to him. 

“Good thing I can afford losing the deposit,” Jensen says, winking. Misha smiles, ducking his head to pose his lips on the bottle for a sip.

“Right,” Misha says wryly. “I forgot you were a big celebrity there for a second, _Jen_.”

He looks up at Jensen with an eyebrow raised in a challenge. Jensen raises both of his own, leaning over the island.

“I thought I said not to call me that, _Dmitri_ ,” Jensen says, voice low, but his expression playful.

“I thought I had been clear about who was going to be giving orders tonight,” Misha counters. He loses his smile and instead moves away from the island. He turns to the grey couch in front of the flat screen, surveying the room. Jensen swallows, unable or unwilling to answer.

“Let’s sit,” Misha says, tone conversational. His words have an underlying authority in them, though, as Misha all but saunters to the seating space. The sound of two glasses clinking against bottles signals Jensen following suit.

Misha sits in the middle of the couch, legs spread and bottle tipped to his mouth. He grins lazily as he watches Jensen sit beside him. Jensen puts the two glasses and the bottle of whiskey he brought on the table.

“Wanna, uh, watch something?” Jensen asks, after they both take a long sip of beer.

“Yes,” Misha says, setting his beer down on the glass table loudly. Misha doesn’t look to the TV, but instead fixes Jensen with a calculating look. Jensen raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

“What do you want to show me?” Misha asks, voice dipping and face morphing into a leer. 

Jensen chokes on the sip of beer he was drinking, cheeks flaming and eyes wide. Misha leans forward, breaking the serious tone, and offers a hand on his back while Jensen attempts to regain his composure.

“Sorry,” Misha says, wincing. Jensen waves him off.

“No, no... I mean,” Jensen says, espression sheepish. “I just, uh, wasn’t expecting that right off the bat like that…” He laughs nervously. “Gotta give me a chance here, tough guy.”

 

“Was I-- Did I…” Misha falters for a moment, his own eyes widening in an apologetic look. “I didn’t misread the situation, here, did I?”

He backs away a little so that he is not longer touching Jensen. The man shakes his head quickly.

“No, uh,” Jensen says, arm coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I think I was pretty,uh… pretty clear. Just...” Jensen looks up at Misha, pupils dilating slightly. “No,” he says roughly. Misha nods.

“Good, cos Vicki keeps asking me when I’m finally going to fuck you, so…” Misha says, picking up his beer and side eyeing Jensen where he sits frozen beside him.

Jensen gapes. Misha turns and winks at him for good measure.

Jensen gets up abruptly, nearly pushing the whole couch back in his apparent haste. Misha frowns, spilling his beer on his shirt in the commotion. Some of it falls onto the couch and he hisses in annoyance. Jensen barely looks back at him, heading out of the room into the gray painted hallway.

“Jensen!” Misha says finally, just before he disappears into the bedroom. The man pauses at the doorway, still visible in the dark passageway.

“I’m s--” Misha starts.

“Danneel asked me the same thing last week,” Jensen cuts him off, and it’s Misha’s turn to stop and stare.

“Well?”Jensen asks, after a beat. “Are you coming, or what?” 

Misha gets up, downing his beer. Jensen turns back towards the light of his bedroom.

“Fuck, I hope so,” Misha mutters, following the man inside.

*

Jensen’s eyes snap open. He frowns for a second, confused, but his expression morphs once his gaze falls the mess of linens beside him and the warmth at his groin.

“ _Mish_ ,” he groans, but his voice is sleep rough and ragged. The strands of Misha’s hair brush the inside of Jensen’s thigh so the muscles in his leg visibly twitch in the sunlight. 

Misha looks up, tousled hair so long it almost obscures his eyes. 

“You need a-- _shit!_ \-- haircut, you fucker,” Jensen rasps through a chuckle. 

Misha frees his mouth with a loud pop, grinning. Without a word, he grabs Jensen’s hand and tangles it in the long strands of his own hair. Jensen’s fingers twitch involuntarily. Misha’s Cheshire grin widens.

“You love it,” Misha says through his smug smile. Jensen’s eyes close when Misha runs a finger up Jensen’s length. 

“You don’t wanna watch, like last night?” Misha asks, finger still stroking gently, absently. 

Jensen’s eyes fly open as his skin flushes red. It makes the slightly irritated skin around his wrists darker and the marks on his chest brighter. His fingers clench in Misha’s dark hair on instinct. Jensen sees Misha’s eyes twitch, as if he is resisting the urge to close them, and the man moves slightly away from Jensen’s grip so that he’s pulling his hair.

“Like you mean it, now,” Misha mutters. Jensen’s mouth twitches as he pulls in earnest. 

“Yeah, baby, just like that,” Misha breathes, finally allowing his eyes to close as he nuzzles Jensen’s crotch. 

Jensen stares for a moment, mouth parted in a pant, as Misha rubs his face against Jensen’s erection like some sort of pornographic feline. 

“Why is that so fucking hot?” Jensen whispers aloud. Misha just smiles as he buries his nose in the wiry hair at the base of Jensen’s cock and _inhales_. “Fuck, Mish. ‘Want you.”

“What do you want?” Misha asks immediately. His gaze is sharp when he opens his eyes to look up. Jensen bites his lip, expression hesitant. Misha had asked the same thing the night before. Jensen had responded, “to see you.” He had spent half the night tied to the bedposts watching Misha pleasure himself.

In Jensen’s silence, Misha rolls his eyes, huffing in impatience. His tongue darts out, glistening pink, to touch Jensen. He hums once his tongue disappears back into his mouth, swallowing through a self-satisfied smile.

“T-taste good?” Jensen stutters at the sight. His breath is coming in short gasps and the taut muscles of his abdomen twitch with aborted thrusts. The desperation somewhat ruins the bravado. Misha glances up at him, eyebrow raised. That look alone elicits a darker shade of red on Jensen’s cheeks and chest.

“ _Very_ ,” Misha answers. “But you didn’t answer me.” Jensen has to let go of his hair as Misha brings a hand up under Jensen, nudging his thighs further apart with his shoulders. His fingers graze over the sensitive flesh behind Jensen’s dick. When his touch drops even further, Jensen’s legs spasm.

“ _Mish_ ,” Jensen whimpers, back arched. “‘M still… _Oh, God_! Fuck, baby, please!”

Misha smiles up at him again, but this time his eyes remain soft, gaze affectionate. At the sight of it, Jensen’s laboured breath hitches.

“No, I don’t think so,” Misha says, tone conversational. He hoists both of Jensen’s legs up, adopting a clinical expression as he thoroughly examines him. The fading flush of earlier embarrassment on Jensen’s cheeks is renewed full force, spreading to cover the entirety of his pale freckled skin. Misha tilts his head from side to side while Jensen stares determinedly up at the ceiling. 

A loud _CRACK_ sounds when Misha’s palm connects with the pink skin of Jensen’s ass. Caught unawares, Jensen lets out a resounding yelp, squirming away from Misha’s grip. His skin flashes white on red for a moment, before the dark outline of a handprint begins to form on his left buttock. Jensen’s erection bobs against his stomach, leaving a wet trail there in its wake.

“Definitely still too sensitive,” Misha nods, letting go of Jensen’s thighs so that they rest on either side of his naked torso. His own cock stands tall, but he leans forward so that Jensen’s line of sight is obscured. Misha blows gently on Jensen’s erection as the change in placement brings him back to their original position.

“Mish, God, you’re killin’ me here, man,” Jensen groans through gritted teeth, but Misha merely looks up disinterestedly.

“Sorry I woke you up, by the way,” Misha replies, ignoring Jensen’s incredulous laugh. 

“Over it.”

“I just couldn’t get the sight of you out of my head…” Misha continues almost wistfully. He pauses for a moment to lick a stripe up the underside of Jensen’s straining cock. The positioning of Jensen’s dick at Misha’s mouth is reminiscent, ridiculously, of a microphone. Misha speaks as if it is. 

“Last night you were…” Misha closes his eyes, as though savouring a particularly good dessert. “It was like a videogame, or some kind of dream where all the depraved shit I think about whenever I look at you was somehow coming true in one night.” Misha shakes his head, gaze full of awe as he kneads the muscles jumping in Jensen’s thighs distractedly. Jensen is still thrusting minutely into air, knees bent and heels planted firmly in the the sheets for leverage as Misha talks. His thrusts intensify as Misha brings a hand to form a loose fist around Jensen’s swollen dick. 

“I wanted it to last all night. I wanted to watch you come all over yourself until you were dry, until it hurt and you were begging me to stop. I wanted to… _Fuck_ Jensen, I want to feel you come now. I want to taste you, baby, _yes_ ,” Misha’s words jumble as his speech accelerates with the pace of his strokes. He releases his restrictive grip on Jensen’s thighs to bring his left hand to his own length, stroking himself with equal, if a bit clumsier, vigor.

“I loved filling you up, watching you take my cock… I wanna taste you now, Jen. I wanna see you come, wanna feel it, wanna watch you. You’re so fucking gorgeous, so good, baby come on-”

Jensen finally breaks eye contact to throw his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he bites down on his lip.

“Mish,” Jensen chokes out, eyes flying open. “Dmitri!” 

Their gazes lock as Misha, hand still working furiously, dips his head just as Jensen spills hot onto his face. Jensen watches as Misha closes his lips over the head of his cock, slowing his strokes as he swallows Jensen’s release. 

Then Jensen is waving Misha off of him, heaving him up by the armpits so that he is laying directly on top of Jensen, erection pressing into his hip. Misha groans as his cock makes contact with Jensen’s sweat slick skin. He thrusts, sucking at Jensen’s neck. Jensen pulls him off so that he can insinuate a hand between them. As soon as he is grasping Misha’s length, the man goes into a frenzy, bucking up hard and fast into Jensen’s tight fist.

“Yeah, fuck, give it to me, Mish. Wanna see it, wanna… waited so long, let me see, sweetheart...” Jensen mutters, mouth grazing Misha’s ear. He licks the shell of it, ending in a bite at Misha’s earlobe.

There’s a moment of tension in Misha’s whole body as he stills his movement, gasping breath gone silent. Then the man slumps forward, exhaling loudly as he releases onto Jensen’s hip and hand.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Misha says, voice muffled by Jensen’s collarbone.

“Fuck,” Jensen agrees breathlessly.

Misha pushes himself up to his elbows, grimacing when the cool air hits the wet spots along their bodies. He pecks Jensen on the mouth, quick and wet.

“We need a shower,” Jensen says, clean hand coming up to stroke Misha’s torso. 

“In a minute,” Misha says, pushing up and off Jensen’s chest in order to roll over onto his back. 

Jensen rolls his head to the side, lips twitching as they form a hesitant grin while he watches the man beside him. Misha breathes deeply for a moment, staring at the plain white ceiling. Then he too rolls his head to the side, meeting Jensen’s warm green eyes. His expression is serious for less than a second before his face is splitting into a grin.

They stare at each other grinning. Their legs are entwined in the eggshell sheets and their breathing remains strenuous.

“I keep expectin’ to wake up or somethin’,” he confesses, still smiling widely. Misha shakes his head without breaking their gaze.

“You already did.”

Misha brings a free hand up to stroke Jensen’s cheek. Jensen’s smile softens, green eyes limpid in the morning light.

“When do I get a say in redecorating?” Misha asks, breaking the silence. Jensen’s mouth parts and his eyebrows knit together.

“What’s wrong with my apartment?” 

“Nothing. Are you sure it’s yours though? Or wait, I know! Is it because you bought it yesterday?” Misha teases, rubbing his foot up Jensen’s leg. “You bought a furnished apartment just so I could fuck you in it? _Babe_.”

“What?” Jensen’s expression moves from displeased to confused. He looks around the room, from the slate grey walls to the sleek black furniture that came with the apartment. “Okay, so it’s a little generic… But it’s clean! And classic.”

Jensen’s bottom lip juts out as he settles back into glaring at Misha.

“Yes, dear,” Misha replies loftily, eyeing the plain creme sheets and neutral toned comforter.

“I don’t know, man,” Jensen argues nervously. “It was just me up here. ‘Neel never visits and she’s the one who decorates our house back home…”

“It’s okay,” Misha says. “I can work with this.” He holds up his hands to form a frame around the round ceiling light, squinting at it consideringly.

“And what makes you think you’re going to be back here anytime soon to _work with_ anything?” Jensen shoots back teasingly. Misha’s expression sobers and he turns back to look at Jensen.

“Oh I will,” Misha says, confident. Then, a little quieter, he adds, “Right?”

Jensen smiles shyly, reaching up a hand to pinch Misha’s chin as he rolls his eyes.

“Definitely.”

“I can’t wait to tell Vicki!” Misha blurts, dislodging Jensen’s thumb from where it perched on his chin. 

Jensen barks out a laugh.

“God, Danneel’s never gonna let me live this down…” Jensen says fondly, rolling back to look at the ceiling. “She’s probably gonna wanna fuck you too,” Jensen adds, almost to himself. His attention is brought back to Misha when he feels the bed shift.

Misha is _fist pumping_.

“I know!” he says excitedly. Jensen glares at him. 

“You can _watch_!” Misha offers lightly, but Jensen is already getting out of bed. 

“She’ll probably even _want_ you there, babe,” Misha pleads unconvincingly through a giggle. Jensen’s mouth twitches as he continues to frown at the man stretched out luxuriously on his bed. 

“We’ll pay lots of attention to y-oomph!” 

Misha is hit in the face by a flying pillow as Jensen walks around the large bed.

“Shut the fuck up and get in here, asshole!” Jensen calls from the bathroom, a moment later.

And just like that, Misha is the one rushing to obey.


End file.
